Adopted beliefs
by MrNielsen
Summary: An AU-story by myself and Lily Hellsing. A tragedy in Jerusalem causes the of a married couple. Miraculously, their 2 year old son survives, and is found by a young British nobleman, Lord Monty Fiske. What could this possibly lead to? Only the authors kno
1. The choice

**All right folks. This is a cooperative work between me and Lily Hellsing, based on a weird little "what if"- thought, from which we've created a AU with good ol' characters from the classical KP-universe and some OCs too. Not much else to say except for this:  
**

**Lily wanted me to add(specifically for this chapter), that we don't want to offend Middle Easterns or Muslims in general so don't get pissy or burn flags or hunt us down in person(or let a bounty hunter do it for you).**

**In addition I might add, that we'll produce some spin-off songfics or one-shots to this AU.**

**Hope you like it, and feel free to review(but they are most appreciated).**

**Tim & Lily.**

* * *

_Jerusalem, 17th of July 1991_

The midday sun was frying from the sky so high above, but despite the 34 degrees and the thick warm air, life went on as usual in Jerusalem, the holy city. Among the locals a couple of American tourist was exploring one of the many Bazaars.

Unlike all the other great places of the world, most tourists in this country did not stick out. Any passing people who were native to that land would never see a 'fanny pack', a silly Disney World hat, flip flops, and shorts with some Hawaiian shirt. Out of respect, and common sense given the past of this place, any people who were visiting knew better and wore the traditional stuff.

Dean and Sandra Stoppable were searching for souvenirs with their little son, Ronald, enjoying the last days of the vacation they'd spend with Sandra's sister and her husband. It had been a most wonderful week, with unique cultural experiences, unforgettable moments of laughter as well as more 'divine' moments. Moment where you could see the true beauty of lands that united the heritage of millions of people spread around the globe. Moments where you could see why God had led Abraham to these lands, a little paradise on earth.

But as for any other paradise, there are snakes tempting to spoil the harmony.

* * *

Wahid had finished his prays. His eyes wandered around the room, checking that he hadn't forgotten something during his preparation. It wasn't so much the fear of what he was about to do as to how nervous he was. The bomb belt lay on the table, ready to be strapped around his torso. He'd found an old shift that could camouflage it, and he'd finished shaving his body for every covering of hair on his body. Ali had helped him made the farewell-video for his family, though it was unlikely his father would play it for the family. He'd never understood him or his cause. No matter, he didn't care much for the ignorant coward.

Jarud on the other hand, he would've understood him. He was proof of why they had to fight against the infidel suppressors. A teardrop passed its way down his chin at the memory of his brother. He regained his composure. In just another fifteen minutes he would join Jarud and the other martyrs.

And how could this not be right? His brother was young, yes, but he was also wise. He held more wisdom than his father who showed his age by possessing a gray beard. Before his blood went out like a hero, he had told Wahid to follow this path; this path would take him to his prize, his reward, a safe haven!

"_Inch Allah_" he whispered before he strapped the bomb belt and pulled on the shift. God's soldier was ready to strike a blow for his faith.

* * *

Lord Montgomery Edward Paynesworth Fiske wandered around in the bazaar, fascinated by the atmosphere and scouting for possible artefacts. After all, it was said that you could find anything in a Middle Eastern bazaar, so the chances of stumbling over a monkey cult-related artefact should be good.

"Can I tempt you with something sir?" a voice from behind said. Lord Fiske turned around and saw a young street vendor with watches on a tray.

It was a silly question for everything Montgomery set his eyes on was found at least some what tempting. Colourful fruit from here and imported lands, beautiful gold jewelery that sparkled under the relentless sun, fabric of silk and fine cotton that just begged to be worn.

"Real Rolex. Very good quality! 50 dollars only." The young man attempted to coax him. The young Fiske half expected him to wear a trench coat and open it, showing hundreds of watching with that annoying loud ticking sound. Then again, this wasn't an alleyway in America, this was a bazaar.

"Thank you my young friend but I'm not interested." The nobleman said, smiling politely at the young man. While you might find anything and everything your heart desires in this bazaar, chances of them being fake were relatively good.

"45 dollars?" the vendor wouldn't give up without a try.

Fiske sighed. He had two options. Either he bought a watch and got rid of the annoyance but it would also attract other parasites…or: If he ignored him long enough though, he might turn to another poor fellow. But then he would have to pull some self-possession, something he seemed to lack in annoying situations like this.

"40 dollars sir?"

He chose the last option.

* * *

"Dean, isn't this scarf adorable…now Ronnie don't suck on it!" she gave the blond little boy in her arms a firm glare. The boy looked up with deep brown eyes, innocent as ever.

Mr. Stoppable laughed.

"I think our Ronald has the same taste you dear. Let's take that as an approval." He said in a cheerful voice and paid for the scarf.

* * *

Wahid walked as hastily as he could through the crowd. He had to get to most crowd-packed center of the bazaar before the bomb detonated. A smile lid up as he turned a corner. He was there. He looked on his watch: 1 minute and twenty-three seconds left. His heart started beating faster and faster.

* * *

"Oh! I promised Aunt Ruth to buy a jar of that relish she likes." Dean remembered.

"You'll go find dear. I'll stay here with Ronald."

"I'll be right back." He said. He gave his son a peck on the cheek and went out on his search for an exquisite relish that you, for God knows what reason, only can buy in Jerusalem.

But he didn't go far before they were knocked to ground by a sudden nearby explosion.

* * *

Fiske landed was hit by the shockwave but managed to stay on his feet. Though the loud explosion had caused some fricatives, he could here people scream. Most of them were fleeing but he ran towards the scene of the crime per instinct. There were probably people who needed and it would take some time before the ambulances would arrive, and he was educated in first-aid from his army-days.

It was a total chaos. Bodies lying in grotesque positions, separated body parts, wounded survivors crying for help, others screaming in pain. But what caught his eyes was a blond boy, not a day over two years, sitting next two the lifeless body of a woman, apparently his mother. The facial expressions, despite his holding fear and the woman's confusion frozen in time, were strikingly similar. He was crying.

The nobleman took the little boy in his arm.

"Shhh. It's all going to be all right, little fellow." His voice was calm and comforting.

The boy stopped crying and looked at him with perplexed expression on his face. It turned into a funny smile and the boy's hand started to reach for his nose.

"Man, nose." The little bond said.

Fiske's heart melted. The boy was the most adorable thing he'd seen. His little freckles. His cute ears. The corn-blond hair. Not to mention the chocolate-brow eyes. There was voice in his head, possibly his paternal instinct kicking in, telling him to keep the little guy. But then again…wouldn't it be unethical? No! It was his duty to take care of him instead of leaving him to an orphanage in a foreign country. Lord Monty Fiske had made up his mind. The boy would stay with him. He looked around to see if anyone had paid them attention, but most of the remaining people were in shock or busy helping the survivors. He held the boy close to his chest and ran away as fast as he could.

* * *

Bates rushed towards the gate of Fiske castle. The old doorbell was ringing, and he knew that it could only be his lordship returning from his latest trip. He opened the huge door ready to greet Lord Fiske with his usual dignity.

"Welcome home my…" he lost his jaw before he could finish the sentence. Thank goodness it was connected to his face for it probably would have hit the ground in a second flat.

What he saw struck him with surprise. Next to the tall ebony-haired nobleman was the luggage, nothing unusual about that, but the little person he carried in his arms was…well, more than unexpected if not wrong on all levels of reason.

Lord Monty Fiske frowned at the butler's reaction.

"Bates, stop gawking and take care of my luggage. When you're done, go see if you can find a crib for little Ronald here." Lord Fiske commanded his butler. It was like bringing home a child every day was normal! Had anyone been watching from the distance, they would have found it particularly comical at how Fiske reacted, as though Bates was…overreacting.

"Ronald?" Bates asked incredulously.

"I found the name on his underwear. His parents died in terrorist attack." His Lordship said with his eyes locked on the boy in his arms, admiring the little cutie.

"But my Lord…"

"No 'buts' Bates. Do as I say."

"Yes my Lord."

Bates watched his master walk down the hall as prattled to the giggling toddler. He shook his head in wonder.

"_I knew he was eccentric, but this is certainly st__ranger than those tasteless artifacts he's so obsessed with."_ He thought as he began to carry Lord Fiske's luggage inside. Surely it was safe for a man who was obsessed hopelessly with monkey related myths and power to have a child who could be molded into whatever he pleased…right?


	2. Daddy

**Well, here's the second chapter. I've only written the last lines in the end, the rest is a product of my talented partner in writing, Lily Hellsing.**

**A little note from her:**

_**I hope y'all will be able to tell the difference of the writing styles of Mr.Nielsen and I. XD **_

_**Thanks to Screamingphoenix, PengyChan, Mr. Wizard, & VampireNaomi for reviewing. Y'all rock!**_

**All characters are the property of Disney.**

* * *

It was extremely unusual to have a child presence in the mansion for the first few days. After so many years of serving only older people, like Lord Fiske's parents and then himself, Bates had forgotten just how needy and clingy children were. Although the two year old boy didn't seem too traumatized, he was still the type who wanted to play constantly, not be left alone.

This brought up the question; did he even realize what had happened? Was the explosion just a dream to him? Or perhaps he had somehow tucked it away subconsciously, wanting to be in bliss by being ignorant from it. The boy could talk…but was still learning, so Bates highly doubted he'd find an answer for that question just yet.

Until then, he would have to serve and help the child. If it weren't for his Lordship's firm order about that, he would have probably even forgotten they had a child there! The castle always had a sort of depression air to it. Ever since Mr.& Mrs. Fiske died and their beloved son turned to traveling around the world for pieces of history, every room was covered in layers of dust. Bates tried to clean the main rooms as much as he could without becoming the maid; the living room, the kitchen, the hallways (which included multiple paintings and artifacts) and some of the bedrooms.

He may be a servant, yes, but he would not turn into a maid! Perhaps they should hire someone…yes; Bates would slyly mention it to his boss as subtle as he could. The two year old might need a nanny as well, for the toad eyed man hadn't the slightest idea of how to take care of any children under five! What did that child even need?

Food was easily taken care of…if Ronald wasn't so picky! Water seemed to please him, like any other living creature. Somehow Bates knew Monty would only allow water and tea for him as he grew up; soda was full of 'a disgusting amount of sugar that would send anyone off the walls', as he once said himself. Ronald's diet would consist of fruits, grains, and vegetables...the servant of Monty Fiske wondered faintly just what his lord was planning to do with the boy.

The question at hand was what to do with said child? He was bored and he made it painfully (loud) obvious that he was by crying constantly…oh, and tugging on Bates' shirt sleeve for attention. They had no books that a two year old could read. Could a two year old even read?!

That's when an idea struck Bates like one of the many pillows that Ron had recently thrown; Monty's old toys. Yes, they would be as fine as ever! They would have to occupy Ronald for at least a week or maybe a little less until they were able to get new ones.

Now…where were those damnable things at?

His first thoughts were a basement…did they even have a basement? Then his mind went to the very opposite; an attic! It only made sense! Several years ago when Montgomery's parents had ceased to live, he insisted on taking most of their paintings up to the attic. When he started searching for some sort of monkey icon, he threw the rest of the paintings of his family, his childhood, up in that dusty place.

No telling what was living up there now!

It had been roughly three or four days since Monty brought home Ron, acting as normal and as casual as ever. So far…he hadn't bothered with the boy; he just left him in Bates hands. Despite the fact that it was technically his job to obey his boss (even if he had no idea what to do with a kid) he felt annoyed. He didn't want this child, Montgomery did! Shouldn't he be taking care of the lad?! Yet he wouldn't say anything…not out loud at least.

This brought up the question in Bates mind as he walked up the shaky ladder. Who in the world had forgotten to buy a new one? Since Monty Fiske brought home one Ronald Stoppable, what were his motivations? What made him want to play hero suddenly? Could it be possible that he was incapable of having children, therefore adopted one?! He knew that such and other 'imperfections' was a problem in many of the old noble families so it wouldn't be a surprise if Lord Fiske suffered from that.

Just as predicted, the attic was dusty except, unlike the rest of the castle, it was caked in ancient history. Bates rubbed his large eyes, seeing so much stuff in there…how did this 'floor' not break yet?! Part of him hesitated; what if the floor/ceiling broke while he walked on it? Rubbing his temples, he forced his legs to move forward before he lost what little motivation he had left.

Painting after painting after painting of a 'happy' family he went through. Clothes that looked like they could fit an infant all the way to a late teenager were stacked up. Bates shivered, thinking of all the lovely bugs and disease ridden animals that could be hiding in there. Dare he risk going over and getting bit by a rat, per say? Well if he didn't Monty would certainly get after him for not making Ron happy…and the only way to make Ron happy was to give him toys.

Crossing the pile of clothes as best as he could, he prayed for nothing to sneak out and sink their teeth into his skin. Managing to ease through the stacks and stacks of old clothing, he gave a soft sigh of relief. Finally, he reached what he wanted; a chest.

Grabbing the lid, he winced physically knowing his hands would be covered in spider webs. Indeed an unpleasant thought for a many who suffered from acrophobia. In the chest were several old toys…very old toys. A few duckies, wooden blocks, a few stuffed animals, a stroller type thing with balls in it that popped when rolled, and jacks. Not the best of toys, but certainly good enough for those few days.

Later that evening, Ron had been playing with the jacks in the hallway. They were like little spikes and you had to grab as many as you could before the red bouncy ball stopped hitting the floor. Needless to say, Ron was more interested in the red ball than the scattered pieces of metal.

He smiled as he threw it at the wall, laughing softly. Without paying much attention, for what child could at his age, he slammed it to the ground which made it bounce up. The bright toy hit a painting and within moments, it came crashing down. Ronald cried out and jumped up, lucky not getting hit.

Footfalls came rapidly. Bates turned the corner and ran over, not looking at the ground as he stepped, and questioned, "What happened? Young Ronald, are you…ah!" He gave a sharp cry as his foot landed on the jacks.

Moments later as he bounced around, holding his injured foot, another pair of footfalls came. He yelled in pain when, as he hopped around, his other foot hit the jacks. Monty showed up looking both alarmed and annoyed. "What is it? What has happened Bates?"

Just like the man before him, his questioning was cut off and replaced by a yowl of pain as he too stepped onto the remaining spikes. Unlike his servant, however, he was smart enough not to move and just stand there with balance, his hands wrapped around his harmed foot. A sneer and a growl came across Monty's handsome features as he glared down at the frightened young blond.

"Bates! Get him to dinner now!" The young Fiske snarled as he kicked the old toys onto one side of the hallway.

Although he would rather sit down and let his feet heal, he grabbed the two year old and led him to the dining hall. There was a rather long table but only two seats set up next to each other; one for Monty, one for Ron. After setting Ron in one, he stepped back, careful not to hit a rather expensive statue of a monkey.

Several minutes passed as Ronald ate his supper. The archeologist walked into the room, eye twitching when he stepped on the foot that had the unfortunate luck to hit the toy. When he saw down, he felt a little calmer to see the young chocolate eyed boy start to eat a banana.

Without warning though, Ronald threw the banana behind him blindly…and hit the statue of the monkey. It went back and forth on the stool it sat on, threatening to fall. The men gasped and stared for any heavy movement towards it could prove to be the end. Lucky for them, it stayed put…although it was covered in banana.

Ronald only laughed. "Monkey eat banana!" Had he planned to do that?!

Monty's head snapped towards the boy, his eyes huge with rage, his teeth latched onto his bottom lip to keep from shouting, his limbs shaking in restrain. "Bates…get the child….out of here!" He snarled at the end, his fist connecting with the table. Said table shook and a glass, which had been half full of wine, fell over, rolled off the side, and basically went 'bye-bye', as Ronald put it.

"Bates!" Monty's voice raised in volume, making the two year old boy stare at him with tears in his eyes. "Get him out!" The servant scrambled to get the young lad out of the chair and the room.

Montgomery rubbed his temples with a sigh of annoyance venting his frustration. Who knew taking in a recently-made-orphan would be so much trouble?! He broke things, left his toys around, threw food, and…well; at least he was potty trained. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and left his forgotten dinner to grow cold. What he needed right now was sleep…

* * *

Several hours had passed.

In the darkness lay a tired Monty Fiske, a smile on his sleepy face. In his dream, he was Monkey Master, ruler of the world! He had a golden crown and a cape, like any 'royalty'. Yes, he was commanding everyone…he turned to what had made him become said ruler when…

A hand grabbed his hand, tugging ever so slightly. His eyes snapped open and immediately he felt the same rage from dinner strike him again. There sat Ronald on the bed, looking like he had been crying. "What is it, boy?" Monty growled out. How dare he destroy any chance for him to see what had made him Monkey Ruler?!

"I had bad dream" the chocolate-eyed boy sniffled.

"Oh," was the only word the bewildered nobleman could express. What to do for a former bachelor, unexperienced in any form of parenting when the little boy he has taken under his wings in a spontaneous act of mercy, when said boy shows up like this late at night. The feeling of bewilderedness was unfamiliar to him, and it annoyed him. Then he tried to remember what his old nanny, Miriam, had done in similar situations. She'd comforted him and given him a feeling of security by staying close to him. Suddenly the answer to his question was clear as day.

He managed to adapt a friendly smile instead of the rage that'd stroked him earlier.

"Would you feel better if you slept in my bed?"

A smile lightened up the boys sad face and he nodded eagerly in response. He crawled closer to Monty and curled up beside him. Though it felt awkward for the nobleman he didn't protest. As he laid his on the pillow again, trying to get back to sleep a whisper from the boy paralyzed him.

"Night daddy."

_Daddy_? Had he really called him _daddy_? It hadn't been that long since the boy had lost his parents so it was quite surreal that he was calling him _daddy_ that early. He knew it would come one day when the boy had adjusted to the new surroundings, but right now the word had shocked him. And yet it actually felt...good. It arouse the paternal feelings that'd overwhelmed him back in Jerusalem and made him take care of the boy. He gazed at the sleeping toddler and stroke his blond hair for a minute or two, before returning to sleep. For the rest of that night, Lord Fiske dreamed no more about being Monkey King. He dreamed about his _son_.


End file.
